Mezamete Kudasai
by Aldedron
Summary: Mezamete Kudasai—Please Awaken. "Haji... when everything ends..." Constantly tormented with the Promise and his own loneliness, self-control crumbling with every day, the night of the Christmas Bombing arrives as the world's dyed red. Torture violence M
1. Torture

**A/N**  
Sorry about the title… I'm pretty sure the Romaji is wrong, but I'm finding it harder and harder to write in Romaji these days…

Anyways, to the point—I was bored and this is what came out! I'm trying really hard to work to make oneshots lately 'cause there are these oneshot competitions all the time—not online, but it real life—that I want so badly to enter, but I never can because I have so much trouble writing oneshots! So, I count this as a practice shot

About the story, I'm not entirely sure where this topic came from. I think I was reading a fic that mentioned Vietnam or something… I don't remember! And… the reason this is rated M: the torture and merciless murder scene. I think you can infer on everything on there ^^ Blame my watching the movie "Brothers" recently

And, since this isn't a story prewritten on the computer, I've been writing it in a spiral notebook just like all my original book drafts ^^' The only reason it's being posted now; I can look back on it. Typed it at midnight when my mom wasn't on the computer *celebration dance* So, there are probably little errors dotted throughout the whole thing 'cause I'm not used to this keyboard and all… Frustration with typos equals more typos and lack of attention to details '

My being on my mother's computer is also the reason the title isn't written in kanji. Her stupid dinosaur doesn't even register their existence! Just replaces 'em with a _box_! So, me mad about that, but what can I do? Use Romaji which I've recently found myself to suck at using—that's what!

EDIT 8/9/2010  
_Okay, this one typo in here's been itching at me from the moment I discovered it... the day I posted it. So! I've finally just decided to go through and fix that stupid typo and edit the whole thing while I was at it ^^_

* * *

**Mezamete Kudasai**

_I only wanted to see your smile…_

How many years had it been now? Too many, that was for sure.

The loneliness was crushing. Day in, day out, nothing seemed to be of any importance.

Killing Chiropterans became a way to pass the time, and his efficiency only decreased the amount of time it took to destroy them. Slowly, but surely, he was changing his MO to a slower, more leisurely pace. More often, he'd receive painful blows which drew massive amounts of blood from his already lacking body, if only to distract from the agony of loneliness. Every kill took more time, drew more blood, induced more fervor to kill yet more time. All in vain, though. It wasn't like he could simply kill Chiropterans every moment of every day for thirty years, after all. Most of the time actually went towards simply hunting them down—which was a slow, thoughtful process all too overwhelmed with memories of Saya. If anything, the actual hunt seemed to _stimulate_ his loneliness, which he later took out on the Chiropteran, only to be left with nothing to do once more.

Distractions were futile to one who had forever.

Many a time, he'd resorted to playing his cello in an attempt to lose himself to the music. It used to be such a wonderful reprieve. No more, however. He had already spent ninety years just killing time on the instrument. Now, it offered no reprieve. He'd make it halfway through Prélude before just lowering the bow, pale fingers resting limp atop the body. His head would hang, black locks draping an ominous shadow over those dying eyes. The song he'd played so many a time before, was only torture, now. The same fingerings. The same bowings. Vibrato here and there, a shift every other note, a crossing of strings to add flavor. The flavor was now that of dust; cobwebs and time. The melody did naught but stimulate memories of Saya even more than the hunt for a Chiropteran, and in every memory of her, he only noticed her absence tenfold.

It was this way when she first went to sleep, too.

This constant lack of… _reason_. Nothing to do, mind always with gears spinning, memories glowing. Day in, day out. Night after night. Never any relief.

Would sleep offer a reprieve? Dreams without the knowledge that he _wasn't_ right beside her? At least an hour, maybe two—no, even a _minute_ and he'd be on cloud nine.

Either way, he was a Chevalier, and Chevalier do not sleep. When they collapse from starvation or blood loss, although the body may be unconscious, the mind isn't. If anything, it goes into overdrive like when he plays his cello or hunts down Chiropterans. Only further torment with no hope for escape.

Thirty years. That's all it was.

Just thirty years and she'd awake once more. His loneliness would evanesce, and no longer would this shredded mind be tormented second after second. That lack of purpose would be nonexistent, for as long as Saya existed, so could he. Only… during these thirty years, it was almost as though she _didn't_. He couldn't even look at her, brush onyx locks from those stunning chocolate eyes. No, all he could do was stare at that dratted coffin and listen to her heartbeats. That reprieve of thoughtlessness he'd once been able to tap into was gone; after a little over a decade, the ability had begun to fade and had never once returned again. Thirty years. That's all it was. Just thirty years and she'd awake once more. Then why did the minutes always seem to pass by slower? Why was ever minute more akin to a decade?

Was it really only thirty years? Felt more like an eternity.

An eternity without purpose. Without reason. Without... _Saya_.

Why was it this way? Why? He just didn't understand it.

It didn't make much sense to him why she had to sleep three decades after only three years of activity. So much sleep for so little consciousness? He cherished every moment when she was awake—no matter how harshly she'd begun to treat him with each Awakening. He understood even then that she was just frustrated.

And it was during these years that _he_ was frustrated.

Saya thought the war was never ending. He wasn't as oppositional to that idea. The longer the war pervaded, the more she'd awaken and he'd be there to greet her.

These thirty years were surely torture, but they only made him appreciate her Awakenings that much more—once she'd Awakened. All the years preceding the event were nothing short of Hell, that was for sure.

A trial, perhaps? To test his loyalty? Could even Fate be that cruel? Either way, Fate was of no consequence to her, and therefore him. One's own actions decide the outcome, not some mystical power bewitching the realm of reality with its mysterious ways.

It was a given that he'd wait for her—that was out of the question—but even he was once human. Even he held emotions of his own, yearnings and wants he daren't reveal.

However, holding all these feelings back was like damming the Colorado. No matter how strong the dam, it was doomed to crack with time. Sure, technicians and engineers patched up the cracks, but these thirty years were always like thirty years without these men. Without anyone to repair the dam. It had been over ninety years, now, that this dam had been suffering the brutality of reality. Even the greatest of structures are doomed to fall when suffering such neglect.

All it'd take to break this long-held dam was a flood. A flood of massive scale, despite the long term damage, but a flood nonetheless. Ninety years ago, when he was young, an even smaller one would've broken it. He'd been young and naïve, concrete still drying. After that first Long Sleep, his defenses had hardened, the dam near indestructible, all the cracks and fissures repaired with Saya's Awakening. However, those had been only cosmetic. Three years weren't nearly enough to fix everything, especially not in the face of _thirty_ _years'_ damage. Now, these fissures had taken their toll. They'd even gone so far as to creep onto the surface.

His temper had shortened dramatically. One bad word directed towards the sleeping Saya and he'd seethe, fists clenched as he pictured their necks to be between his fingers instead of empty air. However, he was still Saya's stoic pillar of support, even while enduring such strong emotions of anger, and would disappear in a gust of wind before bringing any harm towards the bastards. This action revealed that he'd heard their every word, and they'd smile at one another, work their hardest to get a reaction out of him. These constant attempts on his temper for these past two decades were very trying, even more him.

They thinned his already fading self control.

The despair of loneliness was so all-consuming. The constant lack of purpose, prodding from the Red Shield agents, and very lack of Saya's presence at least somewhere near. They all added up, building up a brood of frustrations.

There was one Shield agent he didn't despise, though. A descendent of David, of all people.

David was a practical man. He wasn't as quick to judge as everyone else just off a psych analysis paper or observations in a biased man's journal. He preferred to actually get to know his comrades. He was still a young man, only in his mid twenties—although the war had hardened him enough to make him appear closer to thirty.

And, unlike pretty much every other Shield agent, he actually respected the Chevalier.

"_You've been out on the battlefield longer than anyone else, here,_" David had once told him. "_Any man who suffers for that long is well deserving of—_" He'd been unable to finish that maxim, though, for Joel had walked in, eying the Chevalier suspiciously as usual.

It seemed they all suspected him of treason. They were constantly questioning him where he went and why. Accused him of being in league with Diva. Such blasphemy, yet it was unfathomably real in their eyes.

David did not stand against this treatment—no one did—but at least he didn't contribute. At least he didn't give the old Chevalier scathing glares and spit of how he was a traitor who deserved nothing short of a slow, agonizing death. He was already suffering this, ironically, but never gave in to their taunts or responded with paradoxical truth. Perhaps that was why. David already knew the Chevalier was slowly dying from the inside out. That his dam was cracking and fissuring, the flood threatening up in the mountains with a heavy winter of grief.

Winter of grief. That was certainly true during the years of Saya's Long Sleep. He was always cold. Their glares threw daggers of ice, and there was never a moment in their presence he didn't receive them. It was like being caught in a blizzard with nowhere to seek refuge or warmth. No wood to start a fire. No cave to seek shelter from the blistering wind. Sometimes, he'd actually find goosebumps on his arms. All this brought on by the loneliness, taken advantage of by the Shield agents.

Every day was more lonesome than the last. Nights unbearably long and silent.

He was surrounded by a sea of people, yet felt as though in the middle of the Gobi Desert, slowly dying of frostbite and isolation.

Each scathing glare was another gust of icy wind. Every word, dripping with enmity, another hailstone pelting pale skin.

A great freeze for thirty years, then a sudden, massive melt when Saya Awakened. Melt and freeze. Melt and freeze. Melt and freeze. This exact process tore highways to shreds—why not further the crevices creeping through an already deteriorating structure?

A flood. That's all that was necessary.

Necessary for what? What would truly happen when the dam broke and the river of emotion flooded the canyon…?

…

"You're the only one he'll even _talk_ to! You're the one who has to do it!"

"But, sir! You don't understand how much damage has already been done—"

"To a _monster_? Don't tell me you're actually _sympathizing_ with him."

"…"

"Diva has been located—we can't miss this chance. Only Saya can kill her, and only Haji can wake Saya. Convince him, or we'll miss this chance, and _who knows_ how much longer the fighting will go on!" Joel cried vehemently.

A direct order from the head of Red Shield. David couldn't disobey.

Joel had a point, though. Diva had been located in Vietnam—alongside a massive Chiropteran infestation, to boot. Whether or not Saya was awakened, Haji would be shipped off to Vietnam to slay the Chiropterans.

David had known the Chevalier for nearly a decade, now. He'd come to realize that destroying Chiropterans was one of few distractions.

In Joel's Diary, there were enough records to make it seem significant that Haji used to play his cello all the time. Not once had David ever seen him actually remove the instrument from its case for anything other than caring for it. He'd never heard the bow drawn across the strings even once, yet it was recorded that the Chevalier was capable of creating a truly wondrous song—that he used to play _all the time_. It was most often noted during the short periods of Saya's consciousness; something David had never experienced. It was blatantly obvious to David that the instrument was some sort of symbol. All he had to do was _look_ at Haji—and if anyone else had bothered paying attention—to see that he was suffering. No _happy_ person would be so anti-social, would always remain so expressionless and indifferent to anything and everything around them, would seem to isolated even when surrounded by a sea of people. No, Haji was suffering, and it was blatantly obvious to anyone who cared enough to pay attention.

David had also noted something else about the ancient Chevalier: he didn't like clocks or calendars. It had seemed odd when he'd first noticed it, for wouldn't such things be of great importance to someone who was always closely following a countdown? After a bit of thought, he'd come to realize something, though. Wouldn't such reminders of how much time's left be something closer to _torture_? And then Joel was always reminding him of how much time was left, too. "_You will do as I tell you until Saya Awakens! You're not hers for another _twenty years_!_" he'd scream bitterly, droplets of saliva connecting with a pale, stoic face to receive the expected lack of response. After these instances, he'd just go on like normal, but David had noticed that Haji seemed to grip the strap of his cello case a bit tighter than usual.

All of this just seemed to add up to one thing: Haji was lonely.

He didn't speak unless spoken to. Like a servant, or because he didn't want to? True, Haji was a servant to Red Shield, and "Joel's Diary" showed he had been to the Goldschmidt family—Saya specifically—even when he was human. However, it didn't seem like that was the reasoning behind it. How polite he was to everyone didn't, either. It simply seemed to be his way; how he interacted. That was exactly it, too! He seemed to attempt to _avoid_ interaction.

With everyone but Saya.

And Joel was right. They couldn't miss this chance. Were they to do it now, Diva would die that much sooner and this bloody war would end. It was every Red Shield agents' dream, David being no exception.

Were they to wake her now, Haji wouldn't be so alone anymore, lost in a sea of mortals who hated him. He could be with his Queen.

Diva would die, and war would end.

It was a happy ending for not only Red Shield.

David's eyes narrowed with determination. "Yes, Director." He spoke stiffly, voice devoid of emotion.

Were Joel to find out his reasoning differed, he'd most certainly be outraged. The guy was a raving egotist, after all. An egotist who knew how to strategize, and was a highly capable leader of this cohort organization. No one disobeyed him besides Haji for a _reason_. And Haji had suffered for his disobedience several times before, too… Those stories were the exact reason everyone else remained so obedient. David didn't exactly _hope_ to suffer the same punishment, therefore deciding to keep his true reasoning to himself.

It didn't matter, anyways. So long as it got the job done, the means didn't truly matter. Especially when they were so beneficial to both sides—fulfilling the Common Good.

Yes, this would work. It _had_ to.

He spun around on his heel, departing the Director's presence with firm determination evident in his stiff shoulders and clenched fists.

The exact words to convince the stoic Chevalier were already at the tip of his tongue…

…

"_Just admit it,_" Joel spat foully. His eyes were narrow and flaming with rage.

His only response was an indifferent silence.

The Director snapped his fingers, a signal to the other man in the room to commence with his duty.

A searing, glowing brand was pulled from the flames; it sang with heat, a couple licks still clinging to the superheated steel. Blue-gray eyes faded to gray, carefully watching as the brand was brought closer… and closer…

The putrid scent of burning flesh invaded Joel's nostrils; his expression remained static.

A curl of smoke swirled up, lonely and pale. Heavy panting, sweat dripping alongside blood. Skin turned ash floated lazily to the stone floor below. Black tendrils of hair shadowed a pale face, droplets of perspiration running along his jaw line.

Hazy sight, dizzy with pain.

Yet, no screams; no cries nor grunts.

"_Come on, Haji. The sooner you admit to it, the sooner it ends._"

The picture fuzzed over and flickered for a moment before clearing once more. Men circling a small television watched in stunned silence, immersed in the gruesome "movie". One man was even munching on a granola bar, caught halfway between mouth and wrapper.

"_You think he'll finally admit to it?_"

"_No, no. Did you _not_ see that? Didn't even _cry out_!_"

"_Chiropteran or not, he'll give in sooner or later. What's in it for him if he doesn't? Absolutely nothing, that's what._"

An exchanging of money.

At the sound of the director's voice, they all stopped and spun around back to the television.

"_John._" There were no specific directions, but the torturer knew what it was Joel was requesting. "_Go right on ahead._"

The brand was replaced in its fiery vat as "John", as he was called, reached for another tool: pliers.

His torturee, Haji, was held fast by reinforced steel shackles and straps warped _just_ for him. One curled around the neck; on each wrist which were perpendicular with his body, stretched as far as his arms could reach; another straight across the chest; the last two at the ankles, which were held half a foot apart.

Even under such torture, the Chevalier expelled no weakness. No sign that he held _any_ plans of giving in, despite this being the ninth consecutive hour enduring such afflictions.

It had started off with a torch held against his pale skin. Then, a hammer to his joints. Stakes to the hands. Bamboo under the fingernails. Nails to the eyes. Body drenched in sulfuric acid.

Every man had lost count—Haji included.

With each blow, the wound healed as blood pooled between slabs of stone, staining the mortar scarlet.

A dungeon was the most befitting location to perform this, David mused as he struggled not to flinch with every blow delivered to the silent man. After WWII, Red Shield had claimed a German castle, and set up camp there. The locals kept away because of rumors about the place being haunted; the government was too scared to approach for fear of persecution from the _French_ government; it was set deep in a pine forest with a seemingly limitless supply of kindling for the roaring fires in every room. It was the perfect location both strategically and esthetically. And here was Saya's Chevalier being tortured just like medieval times in the dungeon. The man was a gypsy, and he'd have suffered the exact same treatment had he entered the Bastille in olden times. He would've been treated like horseshit whether he was in Germany or France for nothing other than his origins: exactly the reason he endured this current predicament. This time, it was not for being a Roma, but a Chiropteran.

"_Where's Haji?_" David had asked in bewilderment just the day before.

Joel had nonchalantly replied, "_We've received evidence of his being in league with Diva, and have taken him into questioning._"

It had obviously been a setup with just that single sentence. If evidence had _actually_ been found, Joel would've been steaming, fuming, screaming at inanimate objects. No, this had nothing to do with "being in league with Diva", at all.

But, David knew. Oh, how he knew! This was not a questioning. Haji would reveal nothing because there was nothing _to _reveal. Joel obviously didn't expect him to actually admit to anything. No, it was something else entirely. This was punishment; nothing more, nothing less.

Punishment for disobedience.

David had been there to watch Haji disobey the Director.

Joel had ordered him to a small village in Saudi Arabia. A small unit of Red Shield agents went with—David included—and when they arrived, there were Chiropterans. Two, in fact. They were caged up like animals, the villagers throwing rocks at the beasts as they roared and ripped at the chains and bars, teeth bared. They had been Chiropterans, yet it was still so cruel… Just like the bear slaughters in the English courts. So unjust, so inhumane to kill a helpless animal for the sheer enjoyment of watching it die suffering. To kill the things actually would've been labeled a _mercy kill_, they were so pathetic at this point. They had that Holocaust shape to their bodies in how ribs jutted out sharply and golden eyes rested in hollow sockets. Suffering constant bloodshed and then going _without_ blood to recover? They were starving children with a silver platter piled high with their favorite foods before them, yet just out of reach as they were taunted over the fact they couldn't grasp it.

"_Go to this village and leave not a single soul breathing._"

Everyone had assumed Joel had been speaking of the Chiropterans, and that the village had been overrun, not a single human left alive.

That had not been the case at all.

Children scampered across the packed sand, playing unknown games and laughing joyously. Mothers nursed their babies, faces hidden behind black veils. All the men were off searching for food and water; their cache had run low, so they'd all been shipped off and wouldn't be back for at least a week.

"_Leave not a single soul breathing_." Joel's words echoed in their minds.

The man wasn't good with metaphors, and he didn't skitter around the point. When he said something, he meant it as literally as humanly possible.

"_Leave not a single soul breathing._"

Half the agents had pulled out their machine guns, aiming them at a group of children playing some sort of game with a pile of sandstone pebbles, cocking them threateningly. Wide, confused eyes had turned, veils swishing and caps falling to the sand. Bullets had rained down upon them, blood arcing in a lustrous fountain in return. Another agent grabbed a woman by the hair, dragging her inside a random hut. Her screams were clearly audible.

To kill innocent women and children, the agents had taken out these orders without hesitation, eager expressions donning their faces.

It went sharply against the Chevalier's beliefs.

Eyes narrow, he'd grabbed one agent's gun, ripping it out of his grasp before effortlessly crushing the thing in a pale fist. "_Hey-!_" the man had called out indignantly, an imperious frown warping his features.

The others had turned to see what the commotion was, one whacking Haji in the gut with the butt of his gun. No response. Fear crept in. Guns were turned.

Again, without any effort, Haji had broken every sadistic man's weapon, tossing the scraps in a pile, before killing the two Chiropterans and stalking off towards the helicopter.

Such actions would not go unpunished.

The moment they'd returned to Headquarters—the German castle—the men had gone straight to Joel, and the rest was history.

Haji had blatantly disobeyed Joel's orders. He'd saved most of the villagers and broken his "comrades'" weapons without any grief. Sure, the Chiropterans were dispelled of, but that didn't matter. That had never even been the point.

The whole thing had been a political move: Joel wanted the Americans to war with the Saudi Arabians. The war would produce more Chiropterans and the alliance would be strengthened. The slaughter of that village of innocents would've been the framing of the American military—because each man had held a standard American military machine gun—and tensions would've risen so high, Saudi Arabia'd've outright declared war on the economic power. With only a few dead, it wasn't enough call for the government to do so. War had been prevented. The alliance remained weak.

"_It's all that bastard Chevalier's fault!_" Joel had seethed, fists clenched and pounding on his oak desk. "_He'll pay… he'll pay…_"

Thus, a torturing session over false charges. The men who had been there, who had witnessed the carnage in Saudi Arabia knew that the charges were a lie, but everyone else believed them.

Haji was a Chevalier. He was a Chiropteran. He was an enemy.

"_Why do we have to work with _him_?_" they always snapped when assigned on a team with the guy (Joel refused to let him work on his own).

They hated him. He was a Chiropteran just like the monsters that had killed their friend or their wife or their children blah, blah, blah.

It only made sense to the unknowing agents that the Chevalier was "in league with Diva". She was his Queen's twin sister, was she not? She was "one of his own kind". She was the enemy, a Chiropteran. He was a Chiropteran, so therefore he must be the enemy, too.

"Chiropteran" and "adversary" were synonyms in their minds.

"_It's about time_," one woman had frowned upon hearing the "news". That one had really stung David.

Haji was being _tortured_ because he'd stood up for innocents, refused to let them be mercilessly murdered and raped over nothing more than _politics_.

If anything, Red Shield was the monster and he the human.

David included himself in the Red Shield category.

Even as he'd witnessed those horrors, he'd done nothing but stand and stare. As children had lain crumpled and bloody in the sand, as babies were torn from their mother's teats and shaken 'til they finally stopped crying—he'd done nothing. Just shakily held his pistol, silver glinting in the light.

This whole thing was a witch hunt.

Witches didn't exist, yet for centuries, innocents had been accused, tortured 'til they "admitted" it, and then mercilessly murdered—or given a prolonged death via lynching. Every last one had been innocent. Every last one hadn't survived.

Only difference was, Haji wouldn't "admit" to it. Were he to lie just to end the pain, he'd be murdered just like the other innocents. He couldn't die like them, however. Should he die, Saya would awaken with amnesia, aimless and forever doomed. Joel knew Haji wouldn't be stupid enough to do so—the guy's entire existence revolved around Saya's, after all—and therefore tortured him just for the hell of it. To punish him. To set an example.

"_Disobey me and this is what'll happen._" That's what it said.

…

As David traversed the well-lit corridors of the ancient castle, he pondered this.

Haji lived by Saya's morals. It was obvious in how he revolved his entire existence around the girl and worked to accommodate her every wish no matter the cost to himself. That was one reason he'd been forced to endure being tortured like that—broadcasted live before the rest of Red Shield, at that. Constantly, he was punished for being loyal to not the Shield, but Saya. It wasn't any wonder, though.

Just because he wouldn't stand for innocents being mercilessly slaughtered, he was tortured and humiliated before all his comrades over a crime he _obviously_ didn't commit.

With Saya, it couldn't have been that way.

There was very little data on how they acted towards one another when left to their own devices, but David had doubts as to its being as severe as this. Haji grew up with a far more playful, childish Saya than the war-hardened girl most recently recorded in the Diary. It was impossible to totally dispel of one's past, and David would bet she still thought of Haji as her best friend and protector, rather than a treacherous servant.

Compared with that treatment, this…

David couldn't even _imagine_ how much the Chevalier missed his Queen. He felt lonely himself just thinking about it!

But, this was a win-win situation. Were he to convince Haji to Awaken Saya, he would no longer be alone, plus Red Shield would finally be able to kill Diva. Finally, he'd be released of his obligations to the now corrupt organization, and no longer be alone in the most absolute sense of the word.

The agent already knew where the Chevalier was: the roof.

It was a beautiful night, so how could he blame him? The waxing crescent moon shone a ghostly shade of silver, a gem resting in a sky of velvet and diamond shards. All around were the silhouettes of the pine forest, each looming form tinted green.

Settling down on the cool stone beside the stoic Chevalier, David took a deep breath.

* * *

**A/N**  
Yeah, so there's the first part… This'll be a _two_ piece escapade, apparently. Next chapter—which is halfway written in my trusty spiral—will be David's convincing Haji and, finally, Saya's Awakening Something I've been wanting to write for _Time of Dying_ for so long, but considering that I'm only on the Second Story and Vietnam is still, oh, four or five Stories away… So, I'm just writin' this as a oneshot ^^! … Or, two-shot. Whichever you prefer lol. It was originally intended to be a oneshot, by the way…

Either way! Here's my treat to you all for putting up with the ever looming gap in overall posts. It might stretch on a month, for all I know… Can't tell, at this point O.o But, I'll be back to regular updates on all my other stories as soon as I buy a new computer—preferably this shiny $350 Toshiba *dreamy eyes*


	2. Promises

**A/N**  
Okay, it took some real effort and I had to transfer it over an extended period of time—_several_ _days_ in fact *frown*— but I've finally finished typing up the 2nd chappy of this two-shot! Yay~!  
And, happy day for y'all, it goes into that little thingy beneath the title ^^ Ah, Haji's love for Saya…

Oh, and if you feel like listening to some hardcore music while reading this (considering that I wrote it while doing just that) then go to YouTube and look up "Ethereal [Blood+ AMV]" by Ace Productions (username = Ace0406). Not only is it an _amazing_ video—the product of Sony Vegas 8 (a program I desperately wish to own )—but the _music_ is gorgeous, too. If you're not into hardcore, then you don't have to watch it, but I still recommend. Goes with the rhythm of the chapter ^^

And, when I was rereading ch 1 (something I don't often do for fear I'll hate and erase it all as I so often do ^^'), I suddenly cried "What the crap!" It was unnervingly similar to Lullabyes' _Unvollendete_'s first chapter -_- I'm sorry Lullabyes~! That was not my intention! Must've subconsciously been incorporating those ideas… … That sounds like an excuse, doesn't it? It's not, I swear! I seriously do that with every aspect of my life! I have a photographic memory, and it mostly works with things I read; in other words, _anything_ I read is immediately hardwired into my long-term memory. *wistful* With all that, I guess it makes sense I have absolutely no short-term memory… But, _Unvollendete_ wasn't even the story that got me writing this, so I'm quite surprised that got in here O.o Either way, I apologize, Lullabyes T.T

* * *

**Mezamete Kudasai**

_I only wanted to see your smile…_

"_Haji… when everything ends…_"

Such torturous words from his most beloved.

A death pact, that's what it was. For, without her, he held no purpose. Should she die, he'd die with—even if it was by his own hand. As she had requested.

'_Saya…_'

It was pointless to search for the point where everything had changed. The night of the Bordeaux Massacre? No, perhaps it wasn't. Perhaps it was when Saya realized she was to enter her Long Sleep. Or maybe after watching that first Chiropteran slaughter dozens of helpless humans. Could've even been that first encounter with Diva. If one really wanted to go all the way back to the beginning, it was when Joel had allowed the twins to live. Even further, the birth of humanity itself; without humans, Chiropterans would hold no conflict, after all.

All this because, truly, blame was beside the point. Blame was an escape. A feeble refuge from one's own liability. Blame oneself, and still, it's only running away.

For blame equals talk, not action. Blame equals wasted time, wasted energy, towards nothing more than words. Words solve nothing.

Nothing can be taken back. Mistakes cannot be corrected, actions redone. What's seen cannot be unseen, and "Speak no evil, see no evil, hear no evil" is still nothing more than mantra of ignorance toward the problem. The problem of the mistake. A mistake which cannot be taken back.

But, if it cannot be taken back, how can one repent? How can wrongs be undone? How can… how can… how can it all go back to the way it used to be?

That's the only thing ever truly wished for, isn't? To go back to normal. For change to remain nonexistent.

Only, change is _not_ nonexistent. It's an unavoidable fact of life and one must either face up to it or go insane.

Repent. Is there really such a thing? No… there isn't.

Old times cannot be returned to. Smiles cannot be regained. Flowers revived. No—no, it's all gone and there's no retrieving it, for once something is lost…

What happened? When did everything change?

Two questions always overwhelming Haji's mind. Day in day out, night after night, each and every decade. Lacking the respite of sleep, it was impossible to escape when in hiding from his own mind. For it was always there—lurking in the shadows, just _waiting_ to pounce.

"_Haji… when everything ends…_"

Those torturous words replayed in a never-ending cycle, yet he could never bring himself to finish the sentence. He always stopped short at "_when everything ends_" as his mind reeled in on itself in agony.

Far more agony than Joel's torture sessions, that was for sure.

Physical pain was nothing to Haji, and it wasn't just because of his high tolerance for pain. No, it was because this emotional agony was just _so _much more excruciating.

'_I only wanted to see your smile… That bright curve of your lips, reaching your eyes—it seemed like it lighted the darkest regions of the Earth. Cure any pain, make everything bad go away. So beautiful… so you…_'

But her smile had faded. Something so good, so pure, so beautiful and wonderful had gradually dissipated over the years.

Where had he gone wrong?

When had she stopped smiling?

No, a better question was: when did he notice?

Now that he could look back on it all, he clearly noted all the warning signs.

As the years dragged on, she'd moved towards less and less human contact. Grew more violent in every battle. Shed more blood. Drew into herself deeper and deeper still. Sustained herself with waning care—starvation, dehydration, lack of blood. It didn't matter. All that mattered was her own inner agony.

"_It's all my fault,_" he'd continuously heard her murmur, voice growing more bitter as time passed. "No one_ would've died if not for me. If not for my mistake—!_" Then, she'd turn away and sulk, drawing deeper into herself. She'd be standing right there and yet… it felt as though she were worlds away.

"_Haji… when everything ends…_"

Why couldn't he bring himself to finish the request? Finish the sentence? Face the facts!

To continually deny it would solve nothing. It'd be as useful as blaming himself or someone else for every single agony he'd endured in this endless life.

That's what Saya was doing. She was blaming herself. She was ru—

Once more, he couldn't finish it. It was too painful.

What happened? Since when had he been this weak?

Haji could kill a thousand Chiropterans in one fell swoop without the slightest exertion or effort if he wanted. He could traverse the earth fifty times in an hour and not tire. He could not eat, sleep, nor drink for years on end and feel fine.

Yet he couldn't finish a sentence.

When had everything changed and why? Those were the questions, were they not?

_He knew the answers, however—_

"Hey, Haji."

The Chevalier was ripped from his thoughts at the voice of the only man who even attempted to understand him: David.

When had David sat down beside him? Hadn't even noticed him…

In reality, the agent had been sitting there, waiting for Haji to notice him, for about five minutes. He'd actually been a bit afraid to speak—to make any noise at all, for that matter. Haji had most obviously been very deep in thought. So deep, in fact, he'd been entirely unaware of the world around him. That was an odd one for him…

For Haji never let down his guard.

Something was wrong. Something was _seriously_ wrong.

Neither of them knew it, but it was the Chevalier's very base that was "wrong". It was cracking as water began to seep through, trickling in a slow but steady stream.

Only thing was, neither of them was fully aware of the problem. … Or… one wouldn't admit it to it, at least.

Haji turned, his glance the only sign of acknowledgement to the agent's presence. Then again, that alone was more than he gave most. For everyone else in the Shield, a blink would be his acknowledgement, and then they'd prattle on about whatever it was they were going to insult him with. The Chevalier then turned back to the scenery, gray eyes unseeing of the scene before them.

Why were they still gray?

Haji still wasn't consciously there.

"Red Shield wants to Awaken Saya." Might as well be blunt.

A spark of blue. The only response.

"They need your permission—"

"No."

That shocked David. No? Shouldn't he be overjoyed with the possibility! Then again, this wasn't a normal human being he was dealing with here.

"May I ask why?"

"…"

As the silence pervaded, it occurred to David why Haji was hesitant towards the idea, despite his own loneliness.

If Haji was this miserable, David couldn't even imagine how _Saya_ must feel during her Awakened periods. Had three years of Diary entries not gone into great detail of how withdrawn, how emotionless the girl had become? In comparison with the records of when she lived at the Zoo—she was downright suicidal!

The agent remained oblivious to the irony of this opinion.

And, although his assumptions were partially correct, they still held many holes.

For two to three years at a time, Saya would do battle with the most ferocious of enemies. Night after night, she'd collapse with exhaustion and blood loss, yet still refuse assistance or treatment. She'd tear herself apart from the inside, whittling away her own sanity with ever pervading thoughts of self-loathing, blame, and depression—all burning off a Yellowstone of rage. She was a ticking time bomb, suffering the whole way through as all her emotions bundled together in an agonizing knot, pushing, pushing, screaming to get out.

She was just like Haji as her dam of self control gradually cracked and weakened with every Awakening.

Sleep was her respite. Her time of peace.

Haji held no respite, no peace.

Even so, he was ever more concerned with her well being than his own, working his best to restore her spirit and care for the cracks every Awakening, just as her mere _presence_ did for him.

She needed time.

Time away from the war, from the fighting, from the death and pain and suffering.

Time for the concrete poured in each crack to set and strengthen, even as reality did its best to hound it to oblivion.

Ocean waves against the rocks, that's what they were. Eternal and, although time consuming, absolute.

Emotions. They tore down every stronghold, every fortress, every defense. They couldn't be stopped, only hidden from the common eye.

"It is not my place to do so." Haji's voice was stoic as usual, despite the controversy so vehemently raging throughout him. That was the case at all hours, every second, each _moment_, anyways, so it only made sense for his usual manner to pervade.

To wake her would disturb her sleep, her respite.

That would be selfish—something entirely outside of Haji's capabilities.

"Not your—You've gotta be _kidding_!" David couldn't help but cry in disbelief, mouth agape.

He stopped short. '_Talk about a stupid question…_' Haji. didn't. joke.

"Why would you possibly think that?"

David hadn't been inside Haji's mind during all that. The agent had immediately assumed the Chevalier's hesitation to be because Saya would be miserable just like Haji—only David hoped to curb that by giving her the chance to kill Diva and fulfill his "win-win" ideal. Pain is beauty, and wouldn't the ending of the war be the beauty, the treacherous path towards that point the pain? Finally, the fighting would stop and people could allow themselves to be happy once more. For the first time in _lifetimes_, in the two Chiropterans' case.

Haji's only response was the closing of his eyes, as though he were shutting himself off from the rest of the world.

No. If he did that, David's message would _never_ get through.

That spark of blue. That had been consciousness to this reality. That had been hope and life—something that David had sensed to be missing from the Chevalier ever since that previous torture session.

No. It was gone even before that.

But while it was still there, he had to make his move. He had to get through!

"If Saya is Awakened, then she can kill Diva."

Haji's eyes snapped open at that.

"She's been located in Vietnam. We know of her presence there for a _fact_, and she's due to wake within the month."

"How do you know this?"

His void was still static, but David could see that blue flare swirling in the Chevalier's eyes. He was paying attention. Every last word was going to heart.

Only, David's assumption of the emotions behind the spark were wrong just like many others.

It was neither excitement nor joy at the idea of ending this wretched war.

_Fear_.

When the war ended, he'd have to finish that sentence. He'd finally have to face up to the facts, to accept the full penalty of his acquisition to Saya's Promise.

As long as he could spend Saya's every waking moment alongside her, he was convinced he'd be content. And he _had_ been content. Had he been denied this simple allowance, he'd have gone mad long ago.

But—what if—what if the Promise truly was fulfilled? If Diva _did_ die by Saya's hand upon a forced Awakening? She'd expect him to go through with it immediately, to end her suffering.

_Could_ he really do it? Could he truly make the blow and decapitate his love, end her—and forever damn her smile?

The one he lived to serve, to protect.

_Could_ he?

It didn't matter, for he'd have to. Haji was a man of his word and he'd given it to Saya on that train, the setting sun painting a golden picture.

Gold… Such an unfitting color for that day. Gold was yellow and yellow was cheery. Yellow was bright and hopeful like the sun; it knew it would rise tomorrow, no matter how dark the night grew in its absence.

With this Promise, there would _be_ no Tomorrow. Only death and a never ending guilt doomed to forever wrench from Haji his sanity and hope.

Saya would—

Even now, he still couldn't finish it. He couldn't outright say that damn sentence and admit to the truth!

For, if the Promise was fulfilled, then he'd be all alone. Saya would be forever lost to him. He'd have nothing to live for, and would follow without question.

Could they meet together in Heaven? Or would it be Hell as Saya was so convinced?

No, they wouldn't meet.

He'd have killed his most beloved. Haji would most certainly go to Hell.

Saya had never done anything wrong, only what she had to. And, Haji knew, deep in his heart, she was the purest soul that could've ever graced this earth. She would undoubtedly go to Heaven…

He sounded so selfish, right there. Saya in Heaven, he in Hell. Shouldn't he be glad she'd go to such a wonderful place to finally gain some well-deserved respite?

In the face of such agony, he felt a small kindling of warmth in his heart at the idea. But it was shadowed out by an overwhelming grief at the idea of that eternal loneliness.

'_I only wanted to see her smile…_'

His one wish—

His heart throbbed and clenched just at the idea.

How could he be so _selfish_!

No, it wasn't his place. It wasn't.

'_Saya no negai ga watashi no negai desu,_' he fervently told himself, trying his hardest to rant it enough so as to block out the refraining "_Haji… when everything ends…_" that was so deafeningly screaming in his ears.

All his grief, all his _fear_—he stamped it out, shoving it into the corners of his mind.

No, he couldn't think about the Tomorrow now.

Saya's wish was to _not_ see Tomorrow. Was to—He still couldn't finish, but could at least face up to it without falling into himself and drowning in loneliness at the idea.

He had to stop thinking about all this. He had to stop. For, the more he did, the deeper he'd sink into despair and the more these emotions would hinder him.

Metaphorically, as he shoved yet more emotions behind the dam alongside ever controversial thoughts, he increased the load. A large crack seared its surface, another leak shooting a jet into oblivion. It did nothing to lessen the strain.

Haji squeezed the strap on his cello case just a bit tighter than usual.

When had he grabbed the thing? Couldn't recall…

His fingers twitched, itching to pick up the bow.

No, it'd only be more torture.

'_Saya no negai ga watashi no negai desu. Therefore, if her wish is to kill Diva no matter the cost, then—_'

"I understand."

"'Understand' what?" One minute Haji's asking what "_How do you know this?_" and the next he's just saying "_I understand_" outta nowhere? "Understand" _what_? David's eyes widened at the realization. '_Wait—he can't mean—_'

"I'll Awaken Saya." Painfully slow, Haji opened his eyes. They were gray.

…

The helicopter rotors seemed more deafening than usual. Blades of grass were whipped this way and that, blown from their roots to swirl in mini tornados around the flying machine. Seemed kind of foreboding, but David wasn't one to get skittish over little coincidental symbols. It was mostly the _noise_ that was getting to him. He gripped his rifle tightly, sweaty fingers clasped around the trigger, although forcibly light enough not to pull it and accidentally shoot someone.

Beside him, Haji stared blankly out the window, eyes heavy lidded and gray. He rested a hand atop the coffin as though it were the most delicate thing in the world, yet too enticing not to at least brush one's fingers across if only to ensure it truly exists.

It was odd seeing Haji in something different. In the past decade, David had only ever seen the guy where this suit from the forties or fifties (think Michael Bublé), yet now he wore a far more modern suit with coat tails on both the front and back, and flared sleeves. It was something most obviously from the current era, yet with Haji in it, it seemed ancient—yet timeless at the same time. The Chevalier most certainly had a strange effect on the world around him. It was as though he manipulated the air around himself so as to fit in perfectly, no matter the setting. Be it on the plateau deserts of Saudi Arabia, drenched in blood, cold castles in Germany, or the baking forests of Vietnam in an American military copter, he just seemed to fit in.

In David's experience, Haji mostly wore old French-inspired tuxes, so it wasn't a simple task to imagine him in anything but, yet he easily pulled off that modern era suit.

Just another testament to the Chevalier's ability to blend in.

As the wheels touched down, the copter jerked violently before settling. It was an expected motion and David had planted his feet firmly on the floor, Haji lightly grasping the coffin to stabilize it.

Immediately, the doors were slid open as a rush of Shield agents pulled David out. In the flash of motion, he couldn't see how they treated Haji.

One man grabbed Haji's arm and violently ripped him out, another three taking hold of the coffin to more gently place it on a gurney. The Chevalier had known their treatment would be less than cordial and had prepared himself, landing in the grass on one knee smoothly. Unfortunately, one thing he hadn't planned for was one of the Shield agents "accidentally" butting him in the head with the butt of his rifle. The Chevalier very nearly crashed to the ground face first, but reacted quickly enough to plant a hand in the withered grass, holding himself up in a precarious position.

His expression remained stoic as he rose, ignorant to the blades of grass and dirt now clinging to his suit.

He deftly followed the Shield agents, eyes on the coffin at all times. Haji'd have been much happier if he was the one transiting her, but Joel wouldn't allow it. If anything, he was lucky he'd been allowed to ride in the same copter.

A Shield agent he didn't recognize ran up. "You're Haji, right!" he called, still a good twenty feet off. The Chevalier turned to face the agent, blinking with confusion. What was going on? Breathing heavily and bent over with sweat dripping off his face, the agent wheezed once he'd finally reached Haji, "The Director… ha~… has given the orders that you are be immediately shipped out for battle. Ha~ ha~… You're to head straight to the front lines with a team… ha~… of twelve…"

Straight to the front lines! No, they couldn't do this! Not while Saya was _right here_ on the battlefield, unconscious and in danger. There were Chiropterans everywhere—he could hear their cries all too well from every direction—and they'd most assuredly go after his Queen. She was about to be Awakened, and Joel dare separate them! He was crossing a line that _shouldn't_ be crossed…

Haji's eyes narrowed darkly, sparking an angry blue as the dam cracked that much more. "I am not leaving Saya unprotected."

"We've got three units set up around the medical tent. They'll give their lives to protect that Chiropteran, so there's no need to worry," a deeper, more assured voice spoke up.

Haji turned to spy Joel's younger brother walking up, hands clasped behind his back. The Chevalier was shocked to find the aristocrat garbed in a military uniform just like all the other agents, gun strapped across his chest. "Deuxième," Haji hissed, fists clenching angrily. Of course. Because Deuxième had been born second, he'd been denied the "privilege" of running Red Shield, so his father had instead installed him in the Combat Unit of the operation. While Haji had never seen him in full uniform, his shock faded as he realized how uncomfortable the guy must actually feel in a tux after basically growing up on the battlefield. An odd thing for Haji to think, considering that he fought in a suit.

"Haven't seen you in awhile, Haji," Deuxième sneered, his ocean blue eyes flashing spitefully. "And, as usual, you haven't changed a bit." The Goldschmidt made the sentence sound like an insult. "But, seriously. You're going _right_ to the front lines. We've already lost nineteen men and the next unit's sure to get slaughtered in no time. We've only got so much manpower before the American reinforcements arrive, so it's your job to go protect what little men we've got until they _do_. Saya will be thoroughly protected with three of our best units."

"I assume you won't be among them."

Deuxième laughed raucously, his smile sharp. "Oh, that's a good one. Of course I'll be head of my team, holding sentry right outside the door."

Pale fists clenched just that much tighter, thankfully hidden in the long sleeves of his latest garb.

It was just that much more frightening having this specific Goldschmidt standing right outside the door to his Saya than any other faceless Shield agent, but, at least he could rest assured that she'd be thoroughly protected. Deuxième had been battling Chiropterans for a good two decades—had been there to greet Saya upon her last Awakening, even. He knew what to expect and would most assuredly protect her with his life. What Haji truly feared, though, was his treatment of her once she'd Awakened. The moment she opened her eyes, she'd no longer be considered "defenseless" by the agents' standards and they might treat her just as badly as they did Haji. Saya shouldn't Awaken to such treatment. She should _never_ be treated so horribly, as though she's not even a person. Which was exactly how Deuxième thought of her.

It wasn't like he had a choice, though. Everything had already been decided…

"First off, we'll need some of your blood."

"I do believe you already have a ready supply—"

"Yeah, but the doctors want a fresh supply. They're afraid the affects'll wear off and that's why she usually takes blood directly from you upon Awakening. Better safe than sorry," he shrugged, a malicious smirk donning his expression.

To bring Saya _all the way out here_ and then have her not wake because of spoiled blood? That… was a terrifying and very _real_ possibility for the Chevalier. He daren't reveal this, and instead turned away for a moment, collecting himself.

He had to calm down. All these emotions kept roiling up and threatening to break through his self control, and he had to tamp them down before they _did_ break through.

After a moment: "I understand."

…

David entered the medical tent, looking askance. "Where's Haji?"

—That question! A sense of déjà vu overcame the agent for a split second.

"He's off on the front lines. There are reports of twenty Chiropteran up north, and soldiers are dropping like flies, so they decided…" David stopped listening, immersed in his own thoughts.

Off on the front lines? They had to be _joking_! Right when Saya was to be Awakened, they'd sent Haji _away_? What was going on! This wasn't how it was supposed to be!

But, he knew there was nothing he could do. Everything had already been decided…

"When do you want to do this?"

David was ripped from his thoughts to be faced with a Red Shield soldier, garbed entirely in an American uniform. Now that he thought about it, everyone seemed to be wearing those. He suddenly felt very out of place… Didn't matter. Had to return to reality.

"How about nightfall?"

It made sense. The girl had had her eyes closed for over a decade. She'd be sensitive to the blinding Vietnamese sun, no doubt. And shit, was it hot! He was sweating just _standing_ there. The humidity was so oppressive, he could barely breathe. Obviously, black was a bad color to be wearing here.

"Yes, sir, Lieutenant."

David still couldn't believe it. Joel had actually made him Lieutenant of this operation! And entrusted Saya to his direct care. That didn't make much sense considering that Haji was right here in Vietnam, too, but he just brushed it off as Joel not wanting to give the Chevalier any official status.

"Well, I'm going to the front lines, too. They're gonna need all the help they can get," he smirked.

"But—sir! You needn't go out of your way—"

"I'm in charge of Saya's safety, and if the Chiropterans are on the front, then that's where I'm goin'." His mind was set.

Slinging his gun over his shoulder, David gave a wave to the medics and left. He'd don a jarhead uniform, grab some more bullets, and head straight for the front lines to help out Haji and keep back those Chiropterans.

…

Outside, the crickets chirped, various birds made their odd calls, gun were fired, rotors chopped through the air. Tall grasses swished and swayed in the wind, buzzing insects flitting between the stalks and collecting on rubber plants.

Guns were cocked as narrow eyes kept close watch on the darkness. A scream ripped through the air, followed by the all too graphic sound of blood splattering in the dirt and flesh tearing, bones crunching. An ape-like form lumbered into view from a mud and straw hut, blood dripping from his toothy grin to the soil below. Long arms dragging on the ground, it began its approach, eyes glowing a fevered red and swirling with insanity and bloodlust. Not a single trace of humanity.

It opened its leathery skinned mouth to bellow, sharp canines glinting in the firelight, when they opened fire. Bullets pelted the beast, penetrating its dark skin, puncturing organs and blood vessels. Blood poured out in fountains as the monster collapsed, screaming the whole way at a pitch far too high for humans to hear.

Another Chiropteran held back. They wouldn't be able to keep at this for too long, however. Deuxième shifted his gaze to the medical tent behind his unit. What was taking them so long?

Inside, the medic-garbed scientists lifted the heavy wooden lid off the coffin. It weighed far more than it appeared and, in shock, one man dropped it. All the others followed suit as the slab splintered on the packed soil. The instigator winced at the sound of finely polished wood cracking in half. That… wasn't supposed to happen…

It didn't matter, however. All three turned their eyes to the cocoon that lay in said coffin. Looked like the pupa of a butterfly…

'_A butterfly from Hell,_' one scientist smirked.

This was their ultimate weapon. Red Shield's ace up Joel's sleeve.

Their monster lay in that cocoon in a deep sleep, and it was time to wake her. Time to send her into battle and show those Chiropterans why Red Shield was still here even after so many decades at war.

They could just _shiver_ in anticipation!

Well, time was a-wastin'. Time to get started.

A saw was pulled out as their leader went to work cutting through the rigid material. Following his lead, the other two pulled out their own saws and, as a team, worked together to cut a seam top to bottom. Their plan was to rip the cocoon apart using that seam with a crowbar to just enough of a distance that a jack could be inserted. Then, the hard labor was over as they gazed in at the sleeping girl.

As though she were a glass figurine, their leader picked her up bridal style, her arms hanging limply, eyes closed in a peaceful sleep. She was beautiful… Onyx hair flowed to form a black river on the table—a stark contrast to her deathly pale skin.

'_We can't send her off into battle naked…_'

Unabashed, she was garbed in a hemp hospital gown.

"Blood," the leader ordered.

An underling handed him a bag of crimson liquid. It shone deathly in the dim light as the scientist sucked the liquid out with a seringe. Once it was full, he held the thing, needle up, and pulled. A small squirt shot out, sprinkling the ground and his face.

They all turned to the sleeping girl in anticipation, hands shaking excitedly.

A small trickle of sweat slid down the leader's face, dripping off the tip of his chin. His green eyes were wide and sparkled curiously, excitedly, anxiously.

This girl was a weapon. A living, breathing, thinking weapon of mass destruction.

For ten years she had slept, and now _he_ would Awaken her.

He was so giddy he could laugh, but the scientist withheld his cackle, instead gently grasping her arm.

The other two crowded in, faces just as childishly excited. The leader slid the needle into her pale skin and slowly injected the blood directly into her vein. Together, they watched the crimson liquid drain from its clear container, entering the girl's bloodstream.

Her lips quivered, eyelids fluttered—for a split second! She was waking! She was waking!

They could barely contain their excited cries.

Suddenly, their flushed faces drain of color, mouths opening not in cries of giddy joy, but sheer terror.

This feeling—

Her eyes snapped open, glowing a bloody red. Without moving her head, they shifted to gaze right at the men. Right _through_ them.

Their fears, their dreams, their lives—all of it flashed before their eyes as that gaze penetrated to their deepest cores.

They shivered no longer in anticipation, but an overwhelming terror as she jerked upright, back arcing as her lips spread in a monstrous roar. It sounded just like a Chiropteran! Her hands clawed at the air, nails long and sharp. Onyx hair flew back like the wings of a demon-angel as bloody eyes widened even further, muddied with rage.

A song lilted through the air, penetrating her defenses. It tugged at her instincts, laughing and smiling, "Come play with me!"

Only, this "play" was not so childishly innocent. This was _Chiropteran_ "play".

"_Diva!_" she screamed, but it became garbled by her rage, ending up as more of an irrationalized roar that shockwaved across the land.

These men—who were they? Why were they here?

Her throat burned.

In the blink of an eye, they were dead as warm blood dripped from her lips. Her hemp gown was splattered with the liquid—as fiery red as her eyes.

Chiropteran Calls echoed all around her.

Her memories were jumbled but a single message stood out amongst the confusion: "Kill the Chiropterans!"

Bloody hand grasped empty air. Where was her sword!

Panicked, she spun madly, hair flaying out, droplets of blood mixed with saliva floating through the air. A plot of gray in this red world: her sword!

Without even thinking about it, the girl grasped the katana, ripping it out of its sheath, which she thoughtlessly tossed aside.

Blood. Yes, her blood was poison. It would kill the Chiropterans. And this sword—it was specially made to do just that. She smiled madly, gazing at her bloodied reflection in the silver blade. The liquid dripping off her face and hair was so similar to the color in her fevered eyes.

Outside, at the sound of Saya's roar, all Red Shield soldiers had frozen.

"That came from inside the med tent!" one man whispered hoarsely.

Deuxième eyed the tent cautiously. There wasn't a doubt the source was inside there, but how'd a Chiropteran sneak past their guard! He pulled out a walkie talkie.

"Beta Unit, what's going on? Did a Chiropteran get past you, 'cause it sure as hell didn't sneak by us."

Only static.

"Beta Unit! Answer me, Beta!"

Deuxième's blood ran cold. If no one was answering, the only reasoning could be that they were dead. What about—

"Charlie Unit, can you hear me?"

"Charlie here. What's up, Alpha?"

"Have you had any contact with Beta?"

A pause. "Now that you mention it, no. … I'm only getting static."

"Same here. They're probably dead. Did you hear that Chiropteran's roar a minute ago? Sounded like it came from inside the med tent… Can you spare a few men to check it out? We'll cover you."

"Yes sir. Over and out."

"Over and out."

Without five seconds, eight men could be seen scampering across the clearing, hunched, guns drawn. Their green uniforms blended in with the tall grasses, alongside the cloak of darkness. If Deuxième hadn't been looking specifically for this, he'd have totally missed them.

Alpha Unit raised their riffles, aiming them at the fabric door of the tent. Safeties were turned off, weapons cocked. They were prepared to fire on less than a moment's notice.

The leader of Charlie Unit stood with his back to the tent wall, taking deep breaths as he prepared himself to leap in. It was obvious those inside were dead. He could hear blood squelching as a weight was placed upon the puddles—or perhaps it was even a severed limb or some internal organ savagely ripped from within. A dragging sound, like metal digging into the dirt. The soldier immediately assumed it to be a Chiropteran's too-long arms, claws digging into the packed soil.

All the Shield soldiers were all too aware that Saya was in there. That Chiropteran was an _enormous_ threat. If it killed her before the scientists had been able to inject the blood—it'd all be over. They were sweating just _thinking_ about it.

With one more breath, the man's eyes narrowed with determination as he spun and pushed off the ground, flying into the tent, gun drawn. Immediately, shots were fired. The rest of his team leapt in without hesitation.

Their cries could be heard echoing across the clearing.

Every man on the Alpha Unit's blood ran cold. Hair stood on end. Fingers tightened on the trigger.

'_Not yet… not yet…_'

The screaming stopped.

'_Now!_'

In perfect synchronization, Alpha opened fire on the tent. For ten grueling seconds, bullets rained down. Deuxième raised his hand in a silent, "Cease fire!"

Silence.

Smoke drifted from their barrels on a hot breeze.

The flap was shoved aside as a form stumbled from within. Her waist-length onyx hair was drenched with blood, more spatters dotting the hemp gown clothing her small body.

'_No… It _can't_ be—_'

The sword in her hand was soaked in blood. _The blood of their comrades_.

The only Chiropteran in that tent was the girl standing before them. _Saya_.

Fear overcame the men.

Their weapon—their trump card! It had mercilessly slaughtered Charlie Unit and, undoubtedly, the scientists who'd Awakened her. Now, it would kill them, too.

On instinct, the soldiers opened fired.

She charged, scarlet eyes flashing with rage.

In a split second, the distance had been crossed as she drove her blade into one man's chest and, in the same swing, decapitated another.

Deuxième squeezed his eyes shut just before the blade came down upon him and the world turned red—then black.

In less than two seconds, all five men were dead, lying in bloody heaps in the grass.

Flames danced in the background as she straightened, bloody eyes wide with rage. '_That song… Diva is there—!_'

Without second thought, she dashed towards the source, ignorant to the carnage surrounding her every which way.

…

A hut collapsed in a fountain of flames and smoke, the sparks drifting on heated breezes to catch anything nearby: more huts, trees, grass, people.

One man was rolling on the ground screaming his head off as the flames overcame him. The scent of burning flesh invaded everyone's nostrils. His screams died away as he stopped moving and bone could be seen beneath the blackened flesh. His open eyes melted in the heat, pooling alongside blood, urine, and other bodily fluids.

A mother, baby in her arms, stared at the body with wide eyes, shivering fearfully.

Carnage was everywhere.

A Chiropteran leapt from the darkness atop an unsuspecting soldier, biting his head off. In a fountain of blood, it disappeared once more into the night as the body twitched upon impact with the ground, fighting to live despite the lack of its head. His green uniform became drenched in crimson blood, as bright and deadly as the flames alighting the landscape.

Screams. A family of four ran out of their burning hut, screaming all the way as the father beat at the flames catching his onyx hair. His family screamed in turn, fearful for the man's life, but unable to think of anything to do in the panic.

The blaze was deafening as it intermixed with the screams, helicopters, guns, and Chiropterans' roars.

The soil was drenched with blood, a fine layer of ash mixing with to form a crimson paste that stuck to anything and everything.

Haji gazed upon the scene with gray eyes, not moving to stop it.

There was nothing he _could_ do, however. It was too late for these people. This village had already been overrun and the only animate objects were screaming people, fighting off the beasts and flames to no avail.

There was nothing they could do. Everyone was outmatched.

Twenty Chiropterans. What a joke. There had to be closer to one hundred.

Everywhere he turned, a Chiropteran lurked, saliva dripping from its gaping mouth, eyes glowing a fevered crimson.

He felt as though his eardrums were going to pop. Everything was so loud!

Helicopters breezed overhead, their rotors producing a deafening chopping that did little more than spread the flames and lure the beasts. He watched indifferently as a Chiropteran, perched atop a burning hut, leapt atop a flaming palm tree to push off and latch onto the open door of one copter. The men inside desperately fired their weapons at it, but all the wounds healed as the bullets were pushed out. It pulled itself up to bite one man's leg. He screamed the whole way down, crashing in a broken heap, his leg still in the Chiropteran's mouth. The monster released the bloody limb, reaching for another victim as the machine spun out of control, disappearing amongst the trees in a trail of smoke and screams.

Shockwaves rocked the land, causing more burning huts to collapse on themselves.

A child running as fast as they could from a slavering Chiropteran tripped over a rock at the shock of the wave. Just as it moved to deliver the death blow, the beast's eye was impaled with a shiny silver dagger, bloodstone glinting in the firelight. It turned its attention to Haji, arm still outstretched from the throw.

As it charged, time suddenly seemed to stand still.

"_Diva!_"

'_Saya!_'

In a violet flash, the Chevalier disappeared as the Chiropteran crashed into a flaming hut. It screamed as the flames caught on its leathery skin and roasted it alive.

…

Panting heavily, Saya stared at the metal container before her. The source of the singing was from within. Diva was inside!

Just as she prepared to charge, a hoard of Chiropterans swarmed her.

All she could do was recklessly swing her sword, mowing as many forms down as she could as fast as possible. As she sliced her hand on the edge of the blade, another Chiropteran fell to crumble in a crystallized heap, crimson bloodstones scattering through the grasses like rubies.

Swing. Die. Cut. Swing. Die. Swing. Die. Cut. Swing. Die.

So much death. So much blood.

As she jammed her sword in a collapsed Chiropteran, its body crystallized.

Couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe! Her chest heaved, struggling to get enough air, even as another beast charged. Her head jerked up as she leapt into the air, swinging her blade as yet another fell to its death, shattering in a crimson glow. Another swing as the monster was thrown back from the force, blood arcing through the air to spatter on her pale face. It crashed to the ground, graying as red cracks fissured their way across. No air. Saya grasped her chest, struggling for breath as her throat burned and her muscles ached like they never had before.

"Saya! At last we meet!" an inhuman voice cried.

She spun around, onyx hair swishing about in a cloak of darkness. It clung to her face, sticky with blood and ash.

A dark figure swooped from the endlessly black sky. With a gust of burning air, he stabbed at her, only to miss as she leapt back. His claws impacted with packed dirt, the humid grasses clinging to his carbon skin.

Stopping to catch her breath, Saya rasped inaudibly as he turned his bloody eyes on hers.

She couldn't react.

He launched, grasping her shoulders with bone-crushing force as they both crashed to the ground. She desperately kicked at him with her knee, face as mask of depthless rage as her crimson eyes sparked. She raised her sword, preparing to deliver the death blow when his clawed hand appeared from thin air, latching on. She watched, seething, as he bent it the wrong way, crying out at the audible "crack" that echoed across the desolate landscape.

A silver flash pierced the darkness, impacting with the Chevalier's glowing red eye. He cried out in indignation and surprise, releasing the Queen as he ripped out the dagger jammed in his eye.

"Saya!"

Haji stood a couple dozen feet away, face a mask of worry for his Queen as she lay unmoving in the grass.

"How dare you get in my way!" the Chevalier screeched, metallic voice echoing off the trees and blaze as his wings unfurled and he launched.

At the last second, Haji dropped to the ground as the Chevalier soared overhead, screaming with rage as blood trailed from his wounded eye. The moment he'd flown overhead, just going into a turn, Haji jumped up, racing to the fallen Saya.

"Saya, come to your senses," he pleaded.

She growled in response, crimson orbs flitting this way and that, her face a mask of rage. This was not his Saya. Haji's eyes widened in shock at the fact. What had happened? What had gone wrong? They narrowed with determination, then, as he glanced at the Chevalier soaring towards them. Instinctively, Haji covered Saya with his own body as the Chevalier swooped overhead, just barely missing a decapitation with his razor sharp claws. He swooped back, arcing through the air for another attack. '_You will not harm Saya!_' Haji thought vehemently, pulling out another dagger as he charged.

As the Chevalier turned sideways, prepared to bite off Haji's head, Haji stabbed through the air, skidding to a stop as his shoes caught on the bloody ash.

Neither landed a blow.

But Haji had never intended to.

In confusion, the Chevalier glanced back, his right eye an empty socket, before a flash of movement caught his attention.

Saya floated through the air before him, hand sliding across an already bloody blade as she screamed with rage. No time to react—the Chevalier jabbed a clawed hand forward, only for Saya to push off the ground, blade singing as it sliced through the air and then his arm. The decapitated limb soared through as he screamed, holding the remaining stub of his arm as blood ceased to pour. The carbon skin grayed and red fissures reared up, spreading and reaching for his life. In a desperate attempt at survival, he ripped off his shoulder as a fountain of blood rained down upon not only himself, but the grass, splattering across Saya's already crimson face.

As she rose, fear overcame him. Those eyes so muddied with rage and desperation—

He took off running, Saya in quick pursuit.

"Saya!"

No, it was too late! That Chevalier was headed _straight_ for Diva who was surrounded by dozens of Chiropterans!

She didn't hear him.

'_That Chevalier! I must kill him!_' was the only thought running through her mind, duty so entwined with her blood, rage the fuel.

Breath ragged and burning, Saya padded the path of an unscathed village barefoot, onyx locks tinted crimson swirling behind her. She gripped her blade with a fiery vengeance, bloody fingers white from the tension.

A form stood in her way. A small obstacle, but an obstacle nonetheless.

Without any consideration, a cry ripping from her lips, she raised her sword just as the child spun around with wide eyes.

Pain raced through her arms as metal connected with metal.

The child fell back in a panic before his elder sister grabbed him and the villagers scattered.

"Saya, you can't do this," Haji pleaded.

She only pressed against his dagger with more force as his instincts screamed for him to remove his blade.

His words fell on deaf ears as she let out another cry, ramming her foot into his gut, causing him to fall back as she brought her katana down for another blow. Haji just barely brought up his blade to prevent decapitation.

Her red eyes seethed with rage as she stared him down, leaning forward with an inhuman hiss.

This feeling—

Haji watched in horror as the skin of his right hand began to shred, revealing the Chiropteran limb beneath.

The half he had sworn never to reveal to her again stood in plain view as fear pummeled his every sense.

He had broken his promise…

"_Haji... when everything end... kill me with your own hands._"

Blue eyes narrowed darkly.

Saya pulled away, raising her blade. It arced through the air, silver moonlight glinting off its blood spattered surface, before coming down without hesitation.

Just as she had done another Chevalier but minutes ago, Haji's hand went flying through the air, dagger still gripped between inhuman fingers. He cried out in agony, gripping what was left of his arm.

"Saya, don't you recognize me?" he asked forlornly, sobs threatening to rip through his throat at the very idea.

Holding her head high, she approached. Only rage stood in her gaze—nothing more, nothing less—as she prepared to deliver the death blow.

"Saya…"

He closed his eyes, prepared to give in to her execution.

Gunfire. His eyes snapped open once more.

David stood among his unit, most down on one knee as they fired Saya.

She spun around to face them, not even wincing as bullets pierced her skin and trespassed her body. Blood dripped in heavy trails to the ground below, intermixing with her Chevalier's. She'd kill them! The Queen raced off, completely forgetting the Chevalier lying broken in the crimson dirt behind her.

—_sometimes the truth's too hard to bear, especially when you already know the answers…_

* * *

**A/N**  
*exhausted sigh* Whew! Finally _done_! ^^' That was so long… Well, this whole thing—that's including ch 1—totaled 34 pages and over 13,000 words. I don't usually do such long chapters… Too much effort *rolls eyes at own laziness*

Oh yeah. What'll happen when the dam breaks, you ask? I'll admit I did _so_ go into that… Well, you already know the answer *smirk*. Haji leaves Red Shield and goes to Hong Kong and sulks! He stops talking, he stops smiling—he banishes emotion, overall. And… I don't know where I'm goin' with this… -_- Yes, I write insanely long things like this on a total whim. It's a sign of my boredom. I mean, just _think _of how much time I must have on my hands to write something this long! It takes _hours_, thank you, and I write every chapter in one go. Hm… I should've written this _after_ Spring Break… Then I'd have something to do during the school day T.T I find school very boring, by the way lol

But—! I'm _insanely_ interested as to what y'all thought of this ^-^ After all this effort, you'd have to be some sort of sadist not to give me feedback -_-

Thoughts? Comments? Confusion? Come on, don't be a sadist… *sing song voice* You _know_ you wanna press that "Review" button ^^…


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